Immortality's Emperor and Death's Prince
by snowcat'scradle
Summary: The Light lost, there was no prophecy, and Lord Voldemort has declared himself the Emperor of England. Harry Potter is just an orphan who possesses a mildly troubling gift. How will he fare in a land where even death is forbidden? More info inside.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: I'm sorry that this is so short! Hopefully as I continue to write I will gain some confidence and make the chapters longer. With that in mind I just want to let everyone know that this is my first chaptered fic and so I can't promise anything concerning how often I will update. However, since I read fanfiction and find it very annoying when authors stop writing for months at a time I will promise you that I will update at least once a month, though hopefully sooner. Also, I apologize for any grammatical issues. I was the only one to look over this and I'm not the greatest writer there is. If you see any glaring issues please just send me a review and I will fix it as quickly as possible.

Summary: The Light never won the First War, there was no prophecy, and the Dark Lord Voldemort has declared himself the Emperor of England. Harry Potter is certianly no Chosen One and possesses a mildly troubling gift. How will he fare in this world where death is expressly forbidden and the hierarchy is predominately determined by blood-status?

Disclaimer: Although the plotline was my idea the material used to generate this story is not mine. It belongs to J. K. Rowling. If I were capable of ideas this creative I would be a successfully published author... I am not.

Warnings...I guess?: I just want to let everyone know that I currently do not have a plan regarding relationships in this story, so if that's what you're looking for...than that is unfortunate. I may change my mind later, but we'll see.

Chapter One

_"Death gives us sleep, eternal youth, and immortality." - Jean Paul_

The field had been carefully chosen. It was flat for the most part, but rose almost unnoticably towards the forest at one end. Across the flatest and lowest lying areas a number of bonfires had been lit so that now, with the setting sun lying just above the treeline, it almost seemed as though the field were a lake of fire. At the far end, shaded by the trees and raised slightly be the slope of the hill, was a long banquet table adorned with gilded candelabra's and golden tableware which caught the light. Just as the sun disappeared, fully hidden by the trees, a man in crimson robes rose from his seat at the center of the table

The Emperor stood, looking down at his carefully chosen mass of spectators and raised his arms outward and upward in a fashion that would seem maudlin if done by any other man. In the shifting lights of the many bonfires his features, high cheekbones and red eyes and hair lightened by strands of gray, made him look like a demon summoned by its fearful worshippers. Perhaps, in some ways, he was.

Everyone gathered in the lower field fell silent at his gesture and as his arms came to rest by his sides all movement stilled. Even the flames seemed to cease flickering.

"Citizens of England, the time has come for us to rise up and face death itself once again. On this night, All Hallow's Eve, we have come together to raise our voices against this force once considered so sure and inevitable." The Emperor's voice easily carried over the crackling of the massive bonfires. It cut through the heat of the flames and they seemed to animate with every changing inflection.

"We are here to assert our own power, to assert our dominance over this last true enemy. We will not be cowed and we will not be beaten. We will no longer be chased and hunted by death. Instead it will be we who are the hunt it into extinction!" Here he leaned forward as if to engage his invisible foe and the people below him seemed to hold their collective breath.

"Once it was believed that even we, with our magic which so often dominates nature, could not destroy this one element which threatens the very existence of every creature on this earth. However, I stand before you as evidence for our superiority. I cannot die. I will not die. And as long as I sit upon the throne of this nation you too will not die!" He shouted, his face lit eerily by the fire and his features adamant. The crowd began to shout and cheer.

"Immortality! Not simply for the wealthy or the powerful, but for every one who draws breath. May you all draw breath forevermore!"

The crowd began to get rowdier and a few began to light torches raising them in the air and shouting, "Death to death! Immortality for all!"

As the crowd began to dissolve into raucous shouts, laughter, and calls for ale and flame the Emperor hid a sardonic smile and took his seat. When he was seated the man to his right lifted his wine glass, held gently between aristocratic fingers.

"I do believe you've managed to excite the masses more than usual, my Lord," the man said smirking over the rim of the glass.

The Emperor turned to the man, his red eyes slitted slightly with condescending amusement, "It would appear so Lucius. One can only hope they don't get too out of hand. I would hate to have an incident as bothersome as last year's."

The blonde allowed his lip to curl further, "Yes. I suppose it is rather bothersome when someone dies during a ceremony to commemorate the annihilation of death."

"Quite."

* * *

><p>Two figures walked hand-in-hand along the cobblestone lane leading to the cemetary of Godric's Hollow. It was growing dark and though the sounds of celebration could be heard faintly in the street they did nothing to lessen the chill of the autumn wind. As the figures passed through the gates of the cemetary the wind gently blew past them and kicked up leaves in their wake.<p>

"It's just up here Harry," Madam Lerman said carefully leading her charge off the path and towards one of the smooth marble headstones. "Be careful where you step. The ground is still wet around here."

When they reached the stone she let go of his hand and took a step back. "There you go. Just like I promised."

Harry Potter stood before his parents' grave and thought that it looked very pretty in the dark. It was made of white marble and though it seemed neglected it still shone like a moon against the darkening sky. The boy stepped forward and reached toward the headstone, carefully tracing the names and dates written there. Softly he murmured the words that had been chiseled in flowing script near the base, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

Death, the last enemy, the strongest and most incurable of diseases, Harry had heard it called all of these names and more which was hardly surprising considering where he lived. This was England, the home of the Great Emperor, the only man to ever best death itself. Death was not allowed to touch this land or to exercise any of the dominion that it held over the rest of the world.

However, no matter how powerful the Emperor was he couldn't annihilate death entirely, Harry was sure of that. It didn't matter that today was Halloween, the day when everyone in the country gathered in pubs or around the dinner table or wherever else they chose to commemorate the rise of the Emperor and the annihilation of death itself. Today was also the anniversary of the day when the Emperor, once the Dark Lord Voldemort, came to a small house in Godric's Hollow in the dead of night and murdered James and Lily Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Alright. So here's the next chapter. It's being posted so soon because: a) I already had some of it written and b) I'm easily pleased and the fact that any would read this at all delighted me. Big "thank you" to anyone who reviewed this story! You guys were all so nice! It's mostly because of you that I'm posting this soon. Once again, I proofread, but not very well so if there's anything glaringly wrong then please let me know and I'll fix it!

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling. Not me. Enough said.

Chapter Two

_"I don't want to acheive immortality through my work. I want to acheive it through not dying." -Woody Allen_

It was the first day of spring and Madame Lerman had been convinced by some of the older children in the orphanage that everyone should go to the local park to celebrate. At first she had objected, but she was not nearly as strict or as nasty as she tried to pretend and had relunctly agreed after a few days of children begging.

After everyone was bundled up she led them down the street to the local park. Once in the park the children statyed in line long enough to be told, "Alright you may play, but be careful!"Then the children ran off in differenct directions to play tag or swing or whatever else their hearts desired.

A little black-haired boy carrying a large book walked over to the bench and sat next to the Madame instead of running off to play with the other children. He situated himself carefully on bench so that the book wouldn't fall off of his lap and began to wrestle with the think cover in an effort to get to the page marked with a thin silk ribbon.

The Madame smiled at the antics of the little boy and turned to the page for him. "Harry," she sighed. "I wish you would try to play. You might find that it's more fun than you think."

Harry peered up at her through wide-framed glasses. Then he shook his head and turned back to the book. Madame Lerman just sighed again.

* * *

><p><em>The rise of the Emperor can be attributed to his masterful strategy and charisma as well as the mistakes made by the leaders of the-<em>

Harry heard Madame Lerman sigh and tried not to frown when he lost his place for the second time in less than a minute. He had known when he started to read this book that it would be difficult, but he had every intention of finishing it before school started in September. Unfortunately that became increasingly difficult when he kept getting distracted.

He knew that it upset Madame Lerman to always see him by himself, even more so since she had taken him to see his parent's grave. He also knew that she just didn't understand. Harry didn't like people. He didn't like the way they looked and he certainly didn't like the way they smelled. In a perfect world Harry would live all by himself as far away from any people as he could manage.

He didn't know how everyone else could go about their daily lives without ever noticing the people around them. Harry could easily remember what it had been like when he was younger, his inability to hide his stares, the nightmares, the fear that he must be some sort of freak or monster.

If he were honest with himself he would admit that, although he didn't have nightmares anymore, he still found it hard not to stare. It was particularly difficult whenever Madame Lerman said the word 'pound' and her jaw, which already seemed like it was desperately trying to escape the rest of her face, would try its best to form the 'ow' sound and looked even closer to freedom. Or whenever James, a boy only a few years younger that Harry, would use the swings on the playground so ferociously that Harry was quite sure the ligaments desperately holding his knee cap to his thigh would just give up completely.

Of course, as far as Harry was concerned everything about this strange world was easily ignored when compared to the stench. That was something that even now, at ten years old, Harry found nearly impossible to ignore.

He remembered quite vividly the day two years ago when a couple of the older girls had gone into Madame Lerman's room while she was out and stolen a bottle of her perfume. They had spent the rest of the day running around the orphanage spraying each other with the stuff until one of them tripped on the edge of a carpet and dropped the bottle on the floor. The room had smelled overwhelmingly of roses for the next three weeks and though many of the boys complained that it made them sneeze Harry was fairly certain that he had never smelled anything so sweet.

He'd been teased mercilessly when the others learned that he had been sneaking down there to sleep instead of staying in his own bed. Harry hadn't been willing to tell them that he liked that smell more than the sickly sweet odor that followed everyone. He'd been afraid that it would make the teasing worse. That they would find out that he was different. Of course, Harry was old enough now to know that he was different.

When he was little he thought that it might just be his imagination or that perhaps he was some sort of demon, but as he grew older he knew that couldn't be the case. He looked different and smelled different. It wasn't that he had black hair or that his eyes were green, it was more than that. When Harry looked into a mirror he saw a face that was smooth and firm. There were no cuts or bruises, no exposed muscle or bone, none of the marks that everyone else had. Harry looked like the characters in story books; he looked imaginary. And one day, one day soon, he was going to find out why.

So he read everything that he could get his hands on, which wasn't much. He would read picture books like _A Kneazle's Day Out_ and he would read history books like _The Age of Immortality_. He promised himself that he would keep on reading until he could understand why he was so different and when he found out why…he was going to do something about it.

Harry turned his focus back to the book in his lap and started again.

_The rise of the Emperor can be attributed to his masterful strategy and charisma as well as the mistakes made by leaders of the…_

* * *

><p>"…And so, were it not for his esteemed presence we, the people who still suffer with our weakness and mortality, would be beyond help or redemption..." The Emperor moved to rest his head in one palm and continued staring at the man before him in what was clearly an useless attempt at silencing him.<p>

"…For this reason alone we should be willing to relinquish just a fraction of our liberty to help him persue such noble goals as those which he has deemed necessary for the continuation of our superiority and-"

"I think that is quite enough Bartemius," the Emperor interrupted settling on a more obvious approach to silence. "Tell me Bartemius," the Emperor continued shifting forward in his seat. "Do you think that this," a gesture to the parchment held between trembling fingers, "is going to emulate a well-meaning attempt at securing safety for the people?"

"W-well My Lord," Bartemius stuttered wringing the parchment between his hands. "That is...I just wish to present the concept in a favorable light."

The Emperor narrowed his eyes. "And you believe the best way to achieve that reaction is to present it as you, a loyal dog, see it?"

Bartemius simply stared at the Emperor with wide eyes and swallowed, preparing to speak. The Emperor held up a hand. "Enough, Bartemius. I know that you are loyal and obedient, but you must remember that the majority of the public do not feel as you do. They are fearful and thus respectful, but that is not loyalty. Write it again, but this time do try to remember who your audience is. We want their cooperation. We do not want to drown them in flattery."

Bartemius nodded and by the time the door shut behind him the Emperor had already turned his attention to some of the many papers littering his desk.

Lucius passed Bartemius on his way to the Dark Lord's office. He couldn't stop the smirk from crossing to his face as he noticed the man's shaking hands and uneven breathing. When he reached the door he stopped for a moment to straighten his robes and then raised a hand and knocked on the door.

The Emperor didn't even raise his head when he called, "Enter."

Lucius stepped through the door and walked with measured steps to the Emperor's desk. He stood before the man and waited for permission to sit.

Red eyes flickered upward for a moment, "Is it going to take that long?"

Lucius gave him a vaguely confused look.

The Emperor sighed. "Never mind. Sit down."

Lucius pulled out one of the two chairs and sat in it, lounging gracefully. "My Lord," he began carefully. "You are aware of the incidents that have occurred recently, are you not?"

The Emperor gestured to the piles of paper on his desk and said with annoyance, "I don't know Lucius. Do you suppose the reports would be located in one of these stacks?"

Sensing his Lord's increasing displeasure Lucius inclined his head slightly in apology. "Forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to imply that you were uninformed. I simply wished to approach you concerning the matter so that you would not have to waste any more of your time than is necessary."

"If your intent was to prevent such a waste than I must inform you that you are failing miserably," the Emperor said, his voice cold.

"I only wished to ask if you felt Bellatrix was in need of some assistance. I know that her program is vital to the prevention of mortality and I'm sure that it must pain you to see it currently struggling as it is now."

When the Emperor looked up at Lucius it was with eyes so cold and angry that Lucius found himself leaning back into the chair as the Emperor leaned towards him over the desk. "Do not imply," the Emperor hissed. "That Bellatrix is not capable of handling that portion of my affairs. She is where she is for a reason. More importantly, you should take great care that your allegations do not also imply my own incompetence. Do not think that your value extends so far that you are indispensable. If you try to reach too far above your station you will be dealt with."

The Emperor relaxed back into his seat and continued, "Do you understand?"

Lucius inclined his head deferentially; his hands clenched in his lap to prevent their shaking, and replied, "Of course, my Lord. I did not wish to imply anything other than my willingness to provide aid. Do you wish me to take my leave?"

The Emperor was silent for a moment and Lucius hoped that he wasn't about to be punished. Then the Emperor said, "There is something you can do for me Lucius. I have decided to start a program at Hogwarts. One that will emphasize the education necessary to become one of Bellatrix's," he paused searching for the right word, "employees. Since this empire is young such a program has not been feasible until this point. I would like you to make all of the arrangements and consider the qualifications that should be met by each student and how to measure their potential. I would like to see your work completed by the end of May so that we can begin making the necessary changes."

"It will be done, my Lord" Lucius said, trying to hide his relief behind his clinical tone. If the Emperor's smirk was any indication, he had not done a very good job of it.

He rose to leave. As he reached to door the Emperor said, "Oh, and Lucius. Keep Severus informed of all the changes you consider. I don't want my Headmaster to be caught off guard."

Lucius didn't even turn when he replied, "As you wish, my Lord," and left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Okay. Here's the newest chapter. Sorry if it seems like it took forever and isn't long enough. A big "THANK YOU" to everyone who has reviewed this story. I really enjoy the feedback. I'd also like to apologize for the inordinate amount of description in this chapter. Mistakes are likely rampant so let me know about any of those if you notice them.

Disclaimer: It belongs to J.K. Rowling. Not me.

Chapter 3

_"To himself everyone is an immortal. He may know that he is going to die, but he can never know that he is dead." -Samuel Butler_

When Harry awoke it was to cloudy skies and the vaguest feeling of foreboding. Although, considering that he felt the latter only after observing the former it was unlikely that the foreboding was prophetic in nature. However, prophetic or not, the feeling was uncomfortable and Harry was sure that it was going to make his day miserable.

When he tripped over his own feet on the way to the bathroom before breakfast he felt that it was a perfectly miserable way to start a miserable day. On his way down to the dining room he grabbed his most recent book with the intention of reading it during breakfast and thereby eliminating the possibility of inane conversation with any of his fellow orphans. However, when he reached the dining room he found Mrs. Lerman setting out some plates for the children with a smile on her face and a letter in one hand. When she turned and saw him standing in the doorway her smile widened and she soundlessly held the letter out to him.

It had finally arrived. The letter that Harry had been waiting for since he was old enough to understand what receiving it would mean. He took it from Mrs. Lerman without a word and went to sit at the table, absently placing his book down. He didn't open it. He just held it and stared at it, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers across the letters of his name written neatly across it. He felt all of his previous thoughts concerning a day of melancholy disappear in the face of this one marvelous event.

"Are ya gonna open it, or just keep staring at it?" James asked, as he walked into the room. He sat down across from Harry and stared at the letter with jealousy. He wouldn't be getting his own letter for a few years yet.

Harry gave him the look. The one he'd been practicing recently. It was meant to convey something along the lines of, your presence is one so disgustingly vile that merely breathing the same air as you makes me nauseous. It's lacking effect on James implied that he needed some more practice with its execution.

"Well?" James prodded, grabbing an apple from the basket at the center of the table and taking a sloppy bite.

In response Harry slid his finger beneath the flap of the envelope and ripped it open with one swift movement. He carefully removed the letter and unfolded it referentially, smoothing out the creases.

_Mr. H. Potter,_

_Allow me to extend my congratulations on your acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is a great honor, one that is extended only to those who possess the required potential. You will find a list of your necessary books attached as well as the list of codes and restrictions that must be obeyed. Ensure that all necessary supplies are procured prior to your arrival, which will be by way of the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 ¾. _

_Congratulations once again and we look forward to your attendance,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry stared down at the letter, the physical proof that he wasn't going to have to stay in this orphanage forever. That someday he would be free of this place and all of the people in it. His eyes ran over the parchment as he repeated the words in his head.

-_congratulations on your acceptance…great honor…potential-_

James interrupted his contemplations with a sigh, "You're no fun."

"What?" Harry asked, startled into asking.

"All you did was stare at it. You didn't react at all! What's the point in getting a letter if you're not even happy about it? Well you can just stare at it for the rest of the day as far as I'm concerned. I'm gonna go play outside. Tell Mrs. Lerman where I am if she starts freakin' out." With that the boy tossed his apple core onto his plate and shoved himself away from the table.

Harry didn't even watch him leave. Who cared what he thought anyway? He wasn't going to waste his time trying to entertain anyone. Besides it was becoming harder and harder to stay in the other boy's presence without feeling sick as he was beginning to look and smell worse every day.

When Harry first met James the boy had simply looked wan with a few cuts scattered across his face and back, but now those simple cuts and bruises had widened and deepened in both color and size. His chest was sunken in and his ribs were broken and jagged. His legs seemed like they wouldn't stay attached much longer and his mouth was now not much more than a rotting hole. Harry wasn't sure how much further the other boy could deteriorate before there was nothing left of him at all.

Harry took one more look at the letter still in his hands before tucking it into the pages of his current book, _The Griffin's Cave and Other Stories_. He would look at it again later when he was alone and wouldn't be bothered. He stood up from the table and was heading to his room upstairs when he heard a sharp cry from outside. He flinched, almost dropping his book in the process.

It wasn't like any of the shrieks he had heard while growing up in an orphanage filled with children. This sound was different in a way he didn't quite understand. It was sharper almost strangled, he hoped it wasn't as painful to make as it was to hear. Harry put his book down on the stair and headed to the front door.

He reached the door at the same time as Mrs. Lerman who came running from the kitchen. As she yanked the door open and ran outside she muttered, "What in Merlin's name was that?"

Harry followed her and they both stood just outside the door for a moment both unable to find the origin of the awful scream. As Harry was peering about the yard he noticed someone lying at the base of the old oak tree that grew just within the orphanage's limits. Mrs. Lerman seemed to have noticed as well because she rushed across the yard toward the tree.

"James," she cried anger clear in her voice. "You get up from there! How dare you come out here without telling me and attempt to play such a dirty trick! Get up this instant!" By this point she had reached James and crouched down to grab him by the ear and yank him up. Instead she let out a gasp of horror and reached for the boy's shoulders, shaking him roughly. "Oh sweet Merlin," she cried. "Wake up, you idiot boy!" But James didn't move, instead his head lulled at an odd angle twisted just a little too far to the side to be natural.

"Harry," Mrs. Lerman yelled, getting up from her position next to James. "Stay by James and watch him. I'm going to floo a healer; they'll do something for him." Then she took off back toward the orphanage. As she reached the door Harry could hear her yelling at some of the other children that James had been hurt and to stay inside.

Harry watched her go. Her obvious panic had both surprised and intrigued him. He felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. He drew closer to where James lay on the ground at the foot of the great tree. The closer he got to the boy the more surreal the whole situation was starting to feel. There was definitely something wrong with James, after all he hadn't moved even when Mrs. Lerman begged him and he always knew when his pranks had gone too far. And he looked different. In fact, he looked beautiful.

How was it possible that those mere moments ago this person had been so hideous and macabre? Lying there on the ground James had never looked more beautiful. Skin which had, only a few minutes ago, been marred by scars and rot was now flawlessly alabaster. His knees were still far too skinny and his limbs seemed to be contorted strangely, but they were smooth and pale without the normal tendons and raw skin. The sickly sweet odor which Harry had come to associate with all people was also absent. Here was one of those flawless people from Harry's picture books brought before him.

Harry bent down and reached out a hand. He ignored the voice inside his head which told him that something was very wrong with this entire situation. He wanted to touch this boy, this angel. He wanted to feel the smoothness of his skin and run his fingers through his hair. For the first time in Harry's life he wanted contact with another human being.

Just as his fingers were about to brush across the skin of the boy beneath him, Harry was startled by the sounds of multiple apparations. He flinched and pulled away from the James, who still hadn't moved. He turned toward the sounds, angry at the interruption, and found himself facing a tall, pale woman with dark hair and high cheekbones. One side or her face was marred by angry red marks which crossed over one milky white eye. She smelled of the rot that accompanied everyone else and assaulted Harry's nostrils, which had been enjoying their brief respite.

Before Harry had a firm grasp of what was happening the woman stepped forward and gripped his upper arm like a vice, yanking him away from the boy lying on the ground. Startled, Harry let out a yelp and stumbled into the woman. He looked up into her mismatched eyes and opened his mouth to protest.

"You shouldn't touch things like that, little boy," the woman cooed. Her voice sounded as nauseatingly sweet as the rotten smell she gave off. Harry was fairly certain he hated her.

"Let me go," he hissed, trying to twist his arm out of her grip. "I wasn't doing anything wrong!"

The woman stared down at him with a look of condescending concern. "Were you checking on your little friend? Were you worried about him?" She sneered. "We're the only ones who can do anything for him now. Stand back and get out of our way." Then she released his arm and shoved him away from James and back toward the door of the orphanage.

Harry stumbled and barely managed to catch himself. He glared over his shoulder at the woman and crossed his arms, refusing to move any further from James' prone form. He found himself flanked by one of the cloaked figures who appeared to be accompanying the woman and joined figure stood very close to Harry, as if to insure that he would not try to touch James again. Suddenly, Mrs. Lerman came running from the orphanage, stopping short when she noticed the woman and her companions.

She approached the woman in black and began to speak, "Thank goodness you responded to quickly. You work for Healer Michaels? I've just flooed his office."

The woman ignored Mrs. Lerman and gestured to some of the people in hooded cloaks who had arrived with her. "Two of you take care of the body. The rest of you can make sure none of the witnesses leave this scene. Make sure to search the area, mistakes will not be allowed this time." She then turned to Mrs. Lerman. "You say you have called for a healer?" Mrs. Lerman nodded, obviously confused. The woman turned from Mrs. Lerman and shouted to one of the cloaked figures, "Edwards, take care of the issue with the Healer and report back when you're done there."

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Lerman stepped toward the woman confused and slightly fearful.

With an aggravated sigh the woman reached into a pocket of her robes and pulled out a business card. She handed it to Mrs. Lerman. Harry took a few steps forward and peered past Mrs. Lerman to the card in her hand. His cloaked watcher made no attempt to stop him.

The card was blank except for a name written neatly across it in plain font; _Bellatrix Lestrange_. When Mrs. Lerman turned it over there was something printed neatly on the back; a black skull. Mrs. Lerman turned the card over a few more times in confusion before saying, "I don't understand."

The woman, Bellatrix Lestrange Harry assumed, reached into one sleeve and pulled out her wand. "Put simply, I'm here to clean up after you." Then she raised her wand and waving it in front of Mrs. Lerman's face she said calmly, "Obliviate." Mrs. Lerman's eyes became glazed and the Lestrange woman continued. "This morning James McAlroy was adopted and left with his new parents. They do not want to maintain contact with the orphanage and so it is unlikely that you will ever see him again. You have just finished breakfast and have decided that you should take the children out to the park since the clouds do not seem to be heralding rain."

Mrs. Lerman nodded and began to head back through the gate toward the orphanage. Two of the cloaked men had lifted James from his place at the foot of the tree and with a nod from the tall woman they apparated away. The remaining cloaked figures turned to Harry. Nervous under the observation Harry took a careful step back only to find himself standing against his original watcher.

"Find the rest of the children and I'll obliviate them," Lestrange said. The majority of the cloaked figures headed toward the orphanage and Lestrange turned to Harry, her wand still in her hand.

As she drew nearer to him Harry began to feel a deep sense of foreboding. If she did to him what she had done to Mrs. Lerman than he was going to forget all about James becoming an angel, which was the closest Harry had ever come to knowing anything about what made him different. This horrible woman was going to take all of that away and then Harry would have to start over, but worse of all, Harry would forget that, at some point, people looked as he looked. That he wasn't so much of a freak. He was going to forget how beautiful people could be.

Before he could even contemplate further Lestrange was standing in front of him with her wand out toward his face. He did the only thing he could think of. He begged.

"Please don't," he pleaded. He tried to find the words to explain to the woman what he had discovered, to describe what it was she would be stealing from him, but nothing more would come. "Please don't make me forget."

Lestrange looked at him with fake concern and said, "Don't worry little boy, when it's over you won't even remember what you don't want to forget." Then she smiled at him cruelly and said, "Obliviate."

* * *

><p>Supper at Mrs. Lerman's Home for Orphaned Children was just as hectic as always, despite the fact that the children had spent the majority of the day at the park and, therefore, were exhausted. Some of the littlest ones fussed and whined about dessert and older ones told rude jokes and kicked each other under the table. Harry sat at the end of the table, as far from the others as he could possibly manage and pushed his green beans around on his plate. He didn't feel very hungry and prayed desperately for an excuse to leave the table. When Mrs. Lerman passed him on her way to silencing one of the children he asked to be excused and was finally granted an escape. He left the table and headed for the stairs.<p>

Harry was halfway up the stairs when he tripped over something lying on one of the steps. His feet slipped from beneath him and he barely managed to grab the rail and stop himself from tumbling down the stairs. Once he had steadied himself and calmed his breathing he looked down at what had tripped him, swearing that whoever had been foolish enough to leave something in such a place was going to be sorry. He bent down and picked up the offending object and looked at it with mounting confusion.

He looked down at _The Griffin's Cave and Other Stories_, flipping through the pages to make sure that none had been ripped or folded and wondering who had put it on the stair. As he was flipping through he found something marking one of the pages. It was a letter with the words _To Mr. H. Potter at Mrs. Lerman's Home for Orphaned Children, Third Room on the Left_ written across it and the Hogwarts Crest emblazoned in the corner. How could he have forgotten to open his letter, Harry thought to himself, he'd been waiting for so long after all.

He turned the letter over. It was already open. Had he opened it already and he'd forgotten? Was that possible? He could feel a headache beginning to form at his temples. He looked down at the book and the letter he held in his hands. Something was wrong. He didn't know what it was, but he was going to find out. After he went to bed and slept of his mounting headache.


End file.
